I find myself in a very difficult situation right now. It is one that I have witnessed so many fall into before, but I never once imagined that I would be in the same seat as them. I never considered that I could one day be the one sitting in a room as the clock ticks seconds, minutes, and hours away with nothing to look forward to but more waiting, all the while fearing the worst is yet to happen. I can see both sides of a single coin right now, and neither one of them is easy to look at.

As the stepson of a neurosurgeon, I have spent my share of nights in a waiting room, simply twiddling my thumbs while I waited, wondering when my stepfather would finish with his current surgery and come through the swinging door to see us all. Eventually, he would come back through the door with an expression that was impossible to read, as though it were carved in stone. Others in the room, who had spent their time wringing their hands or holding their hair in their fingers to get them through the tension, would look to him for answers. Those times were always the most suspenseful – the times I waited to see my stepfather's expression.

When he smiled, there was a feeling of joy that came over those who waited in the room with me that I don't believe I have seen replicated anywhere else. The powerful feelings of rejoicing and delight shone like an aura off of those who saw him smile as he exited the operating room. "Everything went well and he/she is going to make a full recovery," he would say. So many times, I saw him accept handshakes and hugs, and even let a few cry on his shoulder in sheer ecstasy after the burden of waiting in that room had suddenly been lifted from them.

Then there were the times he didn't smile. Those were the worst times I can recall. Whereas his smile brought the greatest joy I had ever seen in my life, a grim shake of his head inspired the worst of sorrows. I came to fear the look in his eyes he had on those nights. The nights when he shook his head and caused women to weep and men to fall to their knees, begging him to tell them that it just wasn't true. His tight lips would always part after he shook his head, and he would say one of the many dark dismissals that crush souls and shatter lives.

"We did all that we could."

"There was nothing we could do for him."

"It is in God's hands now."

I can see both sides of the coin right now, and neither is easy to look at.

There truly is not much time for me to write this entry tonight, or any night here recently. Right now I'm seated on a stiff chair propped in the infirmary, huddled beneath a blanket to try to fight off the chill coming off of the stone walls and floor. I've barely left this room for the past few days, only going to fetch water and some necessities when I find a free moment.

Songring is in a bad place right now. As has been our curse since we arrived in the Honoring Mire, we still have no medical staff at all. The few ponies here that could act as impromptu doctors and nurses all happen to have succumbed to tragedy. That leaves only myself, with what little medicinal understanding I have, to do all I can to make the settlers here more comfortable, and struggle to hang onto the last threads tethering them to the living world. I receive some help from the ponies that are still healthy: They help me with fetching food, water, and soap, but they still have their own duties that they must attend to so that Songring does not crumble beneath us.

We were attacked again this Autumn, but not like anything we had seen before. Deicidians came through the canyon that the Charmedsmile runs through to the east and marched right up to the settlement, having distracted us all by setting the homes on the far side of the river on fire. They struck when my pride and Songring's future burned away in the blazing homes. They had actually come to speak with us, but the parlay they called for did not last long before a battle started between the few militia members we could gather and their overwhelming forces. It was a stroke of luck that we did not lose everything right then and there, including our lives. The blunderbuss hanging on my wall has now seen live combat, and it is the only thing that gave us the edge and made them rethink their time of attack. Their leader believes me to be a demon with evil magic, and the fear of what I might do with that magic is what encouraged them to leave instead of fight.

No matter how much I would like to believe it, this is not over. "By the year's first bloom, we will hold the Mire." That is the last thing she said to me, and from the magnitude of hate I could hear in her tone, I'm inclined to believe her words. They will try to take the Mire from us. They will bring as many soldiers as it will take to wrench this place from our grasp. Hundreds of battle-ready warriors and archers are at their disposal. We have maybe 4 ponies left that can fight right now to summon to the militia. I don't think there's any way Songring can withstand that kind of force, even if so many were not in recovery right now.

I've been grappling with the decision of what I can do to save Songring and make this problem go away so that the ponies here can continue living a happy life. I want to help them keep their land and do all I can to preserve what they call home, but a lot of my friends are really hurt right now, and I just know that the more we struggle to hold on, the more of this I'm going to have to see.

That is why I have used the flare gun given to me at the beginning of this expedition as part of my emergency supplies. This is the closest thing to an emergency that I can imagine. When the extraction team arrived to take me back to Canterlot, I informed them of Songring's situation and asked them to report it back to Celestia. I told them to ask her to help me in any way she could.

I'm sorry... but there's just nothing left in my power I can do to save Songring. I'm so sorry.

The autumn season has passed now, and the chill of winter has snuck into the air, defined by the white clouds that rise up out of the depressed sighs of the ponies that still toil away each day. It has been years since any of us have felt the air get so crisp and cold, since it never snows here in the valley beneath the Fatal Horns. This year seems to be different, however, and in the distance, I can hear loud howls of wind over the mountain passes high above the Honoring Mire. It sounds almost like the shrill cries of a great beast, and the air nips a bit colder each time it echoes through the valley.

The weather is grimly fitting, as though it were orchestrated by some poetic, neglectful god for the sake of symbolism. Songring, for the first time, grows cold like a fresh corpse on the soiled operating table beneath my hands. I can almost hear the sharp, stagnant wail of a flat lining monitor in my head as I stare back at all that I have lost, and know that it is I who lost it. It was I who it depended on, and what I could do for it just was not enough. I will be the one to pull up the sheet and pronounce the time, I will be the one to step into that waiting room, and I will be the one to weep when I shake my head only to myself.

I have done all I can.

There's nothing more I could do.

It is in Celestia's hooves now.

So this is what all is going through the kid's head. I knew he was having a rough time of it, but I never imagined it was this bad for him. Guess you just never really take the time to wonder what somepony else is thinking about until you have absolutely nothing else to do. Looks like he's a rather poetic little fella too, when I glance over some of his other thoughts in here.

I know you're going to be pissed at me when you figure out I snatched up your journal here, Ben, so I guess I'll apologize for it now, and also for taking my chance to write something. You'll have to give me a break since it's rather boring being stuck in this infirmary bed over here all day with a bolt wound in my shoulder. There aren't many folks in here that I want to talk to, and most of the others, like Springfield over there, still haven't woken up, so this is the closest thing to entertainment I've had in a while. It also isn't easy for me to sit over here and watch you try to rock yourself to sleep over there with Maple's hoof in your grasp.

I'll see about lending you a hoof and taking the time to record just what went down that caused all of these problems for you.

It all has to do with that Deicidian pony attack that was mentioned before. The day started out well enough, just like any other I can recall. There was the sound of some trees being chopped, of some furniture being hauled, so on and so forth. Pretty much a typical, easy day. It was that way right up until the first volley.

A hail of bolts came raining down on the houses that were built on the other side of the river, and on the construction sites there too. No ponies that I know of were caught in that initial assault, but they weren't really aiming for anyone in particular. No, they hit their mark, and that was to hit the houses that were built out there. Before any of us knew what happened, the wooden homes had already burst into flames and everypony was scrambling to find something to put it out. Ben's little pet, Dawnstar, was the first to the scene to check out what was going on. She started getting everypony in order to start putting out the fires. She had the unicorns filling buckets and barrels in the river, pegasus ponies dumping the water on the fire from above, and the earth ponies making damp cloths to tie around the firefighters' faces and pulling out any wounded. Too bad all it did was line everyone up into a position for them to fire again.

The rat bastards shot again; a second volley. It came up off the banks of the Charmedsmile, right on top of them all as they were still fighting the fires. That mute miner was in the office with Ben. When he saw it coming, he used her special powers to warn Dawnstar about it. She was able to get quite a few ponies to relative safety and minimize casualties, but a few of the pegasus ponies were still in the air when it happened. Cross Thread, Canary, and Salmon. The first two got some flesh wounds from it, but the old seapegasus took one right in the bone of a wing. With only one wing still flapping, he spiraled towards the ground. Truth be told, he's still MIA: We haven't found where he landed.

It's pretty strange having that miner, Silence is what they call her, use her telepathy to speak to you. You can hear a voice in your head that isn't your own, so I can only guess it's supposed to be hers. It was at that point that she did it to me, telling me that I was supposed to get the militia prepped and head to the apartment halls to meet up with Ben. I told her to nightmare with that, and that we needed to set up guerilla positioning instead. Marching out there in a line like a bunch of morons was only going to get us killed, but we'd actually stand a chance if the militia dropped in on them from above or behind to root out their numbers before they could get their damn lines turned around to stop us. Word from the kid was no though, we were going to meet at the apartment halls. I asked if he had a better plan. I didn't get an answer from him then.

The coordinator hasn't done me wrong yet. I might have thought he was being a dumbass with that call, but that's just the problem. It was his call to make. I may be the militia captain, but when it comes down to it, I still accepted that he's my commanding officer. I did as he asked.

Turns out I got a little extra baggage when filing the militia into position. Heartstrike, Tye Dye, all the usuals were there with me as I checked them over to make sure they were suited up. I know it's easy for some of these greenhorns to forget a bit of barding and end up kicking the bucket because of some stupid mistake like not strapping a chanfron down well enough, or thinking that the croupier isn't necessary and ending up losing the ability to walk because they take a spear head or a blade to the flank. A couple of ponies showed up without a single scrap of gear. That damn boozer Maple and our cheeky bartender both came to play soldier that day.

I told them both to shove off. We didn't have time to try to suit them up, and there were still fires that needed to be fought on the other side of the river. The militia was called, not the militia and a couple of windbags. Think they listened to me though? Fat chance. Quoting Maple on that one, "Fat chance, Daggersides. Almost as fat as you. Saving those houses isn't going to mean anything if we lose the land we built them on." The feather-brained bitch had a point, but doesn't change the fact that she was now endangering my militia.

I told her, "Stop playing around like a hotshot! You're not a fighter, just a hard-headed bitch! As useful as your skull would be as a hammer, you need to get back over there with the civilians and help put out the fires! You're just going to get yourself hurt out here, and I won't waste anypony by watching them go down as they protect you!"

I gotta ask myself why I even bothered though. Like it was going to sway her. What makes her so freaking irritating is the same thing that makes her useful: Her damn persistence. "Then don't let anypony protect me. I'm a big mare and I can take care of myself. You worry about busting as many skulls as you can, I'll worry about keeping myself safe."

Ben finally showed up about then, as he had taken his sweet time doing whatever. He told me that he was late so he could prepare that metal rod with the wooden handle he was holding onto so closely. That must be what he called a blunderbuss earlier on in this section. I would have given him a break had I known what the damn thing could do, but instead I badgered him about wasting precious moments polishing toys instead of helping with preparations. "Now if you're done making sure your accessories are all matched, coordinator, maybe you could tell this pegasus to get over there with the civilians and put out the fires."

"I've already told her, Ben, I'm not going to waste my time with something like that. Why save a house when its' just going to get taken by them anyways? I'm going to make sure we at least still have that land to build another house on," that uppity bitch added in after me.

All Ben said to her after that was that he didn't want to see her get hurt. When she said the same back to him, and told him that either they both stood or neither would, he just nodded his head and asked me to let her stay. I was going to raise an objection, but it ends up he got caught up in discussing the same problem with Absinthe. Ben felt she didn't belong on the front lines either, but like anypony will listen to the chain of command these days but me.

Absinthe told him that she could protect him up there, but became really dodgy when Ben told her that we all needed some protection right now, and he asked her if she could use her magic to give us all an edge. In simple terms, she said no. In her terms, she said some shit about "Not in her place to do so." Ben pretty much told her to go away right then and that he wouldn't use her help if she wasn't willing to help us all, but she told him that she intended to help him keep his promises. Not sure what she was talking about, but it won the kid over and he told her to stay then.

Finally it was my turn to get to say something. All I wanted to know was what the nightmare did the kid have up his sleeve that he expected us to use to not get trampled as soon as we stepped out there. That moment was a harsh reminder of why you don't ask questions that you don't want the honest answer to. He told me he didn't have a plan, just that he wanted us to all stick behind him until a time when it appeared that the situation could not be resolved peacefully.

"Peacefully? What kind of half-brained flower child are you supposed to be, Prodder? They just burned down half the settlement! They've brought a small army with them, and you want to go prance in fields with them and all of us cuddle as we eat s'mores?! Peace isn't really an option!"

"Neither is fighting, Daggersides," he responded, motioning at the overwhelming sight of the marching troops coming towards us. "Take a good look between the two sides. There's about fifteen of us, and they've got to have at least ten times that many with them."

"So, what? You're not going to let us fight them? You're just going to say, "Hey, I came to give you my head on a platter. Shall I use my balls as garnish for you too?" Just what do you plan to do?"

"I don't know." Damn. That phrase took a toll on us all. While I waited to see him answer, I took a glance around to see a lot of something I hoped I wouldn't: Hopelessness. Out of all that he could have said, he picked the three words which could have very well killed any spirit left in the members of my militia. "I honestly don't know. I just know we can't win if we fight. We'd need a miracle for that, and I can't trust we'll get one. We all might as well just jump in the Charmedsmile right now and let the tigerfish eat us for all the good a skirmish against them would do us."

I took it upon myself to try to salvage what will was left in our defenders. Stand up straight, get your tail out from between your legs, that sort of thing, but Ben had already damn near killed it all. Knowing the truth, that if we fought it'd be just for martyrdom to buy time for the civilians to flee, didn't take long to sink into my stallions and mares and lead to a lot of ears folded back and heads held low. Nothing breaks a pony's will to fight quite like telling them their fucked before they even start.

I pulled Ben aside at that point to keep him from damaging morale anymore than he had. I might have been a little rough with him actually, as I was mad that he had so little understanding of how to foster an attitude befitting a fighter in these ponies. Kid wouldn't even look at me though, even when I shook him and growled in his face a few pretty unkind words."The last thing you need to do is break everypony's spirits before they've even drawn their weapons, Coordinator," I informed him. "There's no point in talking to these things. They know what they came here for, and they've shown us a pretty good hint as to what they plan to do to get it. If we use surprise to our advantage, maybe we can at least get lucky and break them apart. Confusion won us a skirmish before, and it's better than standing right in front of them like they were a firing squad ready to execute us!"

"We have about the same chance of their leader slipping on tank feces and breaking his neck before the battle so they all decide to go home instead. If I am the one to make this decision, then I decide that we will try to speak with them. If you want to take command from me, then do it, but know that everything that happens will be your fault if you do."

I didn't think about it until I wrote it just now, but I see how the kid must feel. That decision means a lot to him, and not just that he gets to be the one to make it. If I want to take command from him, then do it, but know everything that happens will be my fault if I do. Says a lot about how he must feel right now. I thought the kid had been making these hard decisions for a while now, so I never figured he would still be so hard on himself for them. That's a lot of responsibility he puts on just one do-or-die choice in a moment's notice. Maybe I should have taken the decision off of his hands, if just to let him have a breather where he wasn't carrying that much weight on his own, but I got intimidated by what he told me and backed down. I just told him that he had yet to screw me over and that I was willing to follow his lead, as long as he promised to not just let these monsters get away with everything they had done.

Ben got his wish at least. We all looked up when we realized the sound of hoofbeats in the distance had now stopped. The troops marching along the banks of the Charmedsmile had slowed to a stop, and now stood in position before us on what we considered Songring's doorstep. It looked to be a small army, a couple hundred ponies perhaps, all wearing the skins of animals and swinging large weapons at their sides. Most of their faces were hidden underneath hide helmets that were decorated with bones and had grey pictures sewn into the cloth that hung around their necks and protected their throats. Many of them were hapticorns, which means they have these slick tentacles that they held their crossbows with. It seemed like no two were alike: some had tentacles growing out of their forehead, others had them growing from so many other locations that it was hard to keep track, and they were all different sizes and lengths. The troops that marched closest to the water were a mixture of the feral ponies and what some of us call "Darkbolts", a bunch of twisted pegasus ponies whose wings are made of barely-covered bone and skin webbing. They all carried clubs, axes, and polearms.

That was when the big one stepped forward. Notably larger than her subordinates, the big Deicidian made a motion towards us with her huge wings flared, probably trying to intimidate us like some dumb animal. She was wearing the only white cloth we could see amongst the whole gathering of them, and a mask that was actually the hide of what I guess was a white bear of sorts. Her pitch-black eyes were visible beneath the eye holes of the bearskin mask, and the hide draped over her back hung all the way down to her hooves and still had the claws attached to the paws. She also had these ugly black-skinned growths coming out of her jaw and chin, three of them, that looked almost like long hair until we saw them twitch and move like they were alive. She rubbed her jaw with one of them while she thought really hard about something, and then said: "Parley!"

"A parley? After they've already opened fire on us? Those double-faced bastards!" That phrase "Parley" pissed me off so bad that I don't think I could see straight then. "It's not a parley! They just want to see us grovel to pad their egos before they wipe us out! They want a parley, I'll give them a parley as soon as we're both lost in Nightmare. We'll have plenty of time to talk when we're dead!"

"If they're reasonable enough to ask for a chance to talk, then they might be just ponies after all. This is the break you were hoping for, Ben, even if it stems from hypocrisy," Absinthe commented.

"We demand your leader step forward and speak! Your wisemare, your general, or whoever you answer to! We will not make this offer again!" The monster shouted to us from across the field.

I was sure it was a trap, but Ben wouldn't listen to me. He just asked me to stick close to his side as he walked right into it, like a fly to a turd. Our own comparatively pathetic numbers marched towards them for the supposed "Parley" they requested, and when we were about 10 feet away from her, she told us to stop. We could see her up close now, and it looked like she had maroon fur. What we could see of her nose, the tentacles on her face, and the webbing stretched between her wings were all dark, almost black. The bitch was huge by all standards, but we couldn't tell how much of it was just fluff from her fur and how much of it was actual muscle. To be honest, I'm sure most of us were not willing to risk finding out.

Things became tense pretty fast while we all just stared across the gap at each other. Their huge leader had two lieutenants at her sides as well, just as Ben had Absinthe and I at his. She spent her time eyeing the coordinator over carefully, and got a look on her face like she smelled something foul. Obviously didn't like what she saw. Finally she turned her head to Absinthe to tell us, "You stand before Yersinia, High Shamaness of The Colorless Plague. Who are you that I may address as leader of your nameless order?"

"Benjamen Prodder. We are the Voices of Subsisting, and I am the "leader" of the residents here in Songring."

That shut her up real fast. The group in front us gasped and started chattering to each other like they had just seen a fireworks display or something. Yersinia, the big bitch in front, merely stared at him for a bit as she tried to think of what to say, obviously shocked that he could talk. The way he looked threw me off at first too, but I thought he was some kind of alien instead of a monster or a demon like she called him. Yeah, she called him a demon right there and told him to keep his foul tricks to himself. Ben told her that he didn't have any, but she wasn't going to listen to reason on this one. Superstitious dunderhead.

"Keep your lies for your indoctrinated subjects. I called this meeting not to let you tempt or distract us, demon, but to show our respect."

I'm not the only one who clenched her teeth when Yersinia said that. As our representative, Ben got the pleasure of chewing her out for it too. "Respect? You bring an army with you and burn down these ponies' homes as a show of respect? How dare you say that?"

"This meeting is granted to you out of respect," she corrected him, "but those buildings were burned to give you both reason and understanding of the situation. This land is not yours, and you may not settle it. Those homes were unjustly built on land that belongs to the Ariad."

"Ariad? The Colorless Plague? I'm sorry, but all of these names are foreign to me. What are you all then? Who are you? What is the Ariad? What is the Colorless Plague? I've heard others call your group the Deicidians. Just what the nightmare are you then?" By this point, I had trouble understanding why he gave a shit anymore. Ariad, Deicidian, whatever. I just wanted to kick her black nose right up into her face.

Then it started: The talking. Oh, the talking, and the talking, and the talking. Yersinia wouldn't shut up! She just started smiling, like he had told her she had pretty hair or that he liked her horseshoes at first. "It has been a very long time since anyone has asked us those kinds of questions. Most only ask of our plans or for our pity. I will humor your request, Benjamen Prodder." Motioning back to her troops, she calmly recited what sounded like a practiced speech that felt like it lasted for ages. "You ask what we are, and I will start by telling you that we are colorless. Definition breeds individuality, and eventually severance, which is the greatest pride and weakness of any thinking creature. Like the white flakes of snow on the untrodden tundra, or the undisturbed sands of a great desert, many equals meld into a single being. Our might is unquestionable. Our whim is undeniable. No matter how fast the stallion, he will never be able to escape the fate of our right and our will. We are insurmountable, like a plague. When you ask who we are, I will tell you that we are The Colorless Plague.

"You call us Deicidians. Deicidian is a label these weak deformities call us out of fear of the inevitable. They angst at the thought of the day that we will one day cast down the Sun's Captor and the Moon Sister, and for that day they anticipate, they call us Deicidian. True as the label they give us may be, we are truly the Ariad: The abandoned. These now-degenerated vermin once left us to die. They only succeeded in granting us the greatest test and training mortals may have instead: Survival." Yersinia had to wait as the troops behind her gave a single uniform and rallied cry of respect to the word she just spoke. After the sound of their reverence faded, she continued (much to my dismay), "We have accepted their unintentional gift, and it is the fire that we have been forged in. With the strength it has given us, and the guidance of the Wisemare's soothsaying dreams, we will take ownership of that which we were denied for so many centuries. We will have the paradise they intended to never let us join."

Blah blah blah, yappity fuckin' yap. By this point I was about to shove her bitch face in the dirt just to shut her up, but I guess that's why I was not the one doing the talking. Ben instead just asked her if she meant to take our slice of paradise then, and she nodded to him.

"We will have it one way or another. The Wisemare's dreams have told us that should we fight here today, we will win. All of the signs are in place, including you, but these ponies have proven before that they are not helpless. Your name is fitting, the Voices of Subsisting. We found your wreckage on the coast of the great waters. We know that you are the ones who stopped the ambush on the convoy we had in place. You have also held fast against one of our platoons before, numbering many more than your braves. The respect for their prowess and their will inspires me to instead give you a choice."

"What choice would that be?" Ben asked.

"The choice to continue surviving. You may leave. Gather your trinkets and flee, and we will not pursue. It is either that, or you may fight us in a battle that fate itself has dictated you will not win."

Something about the smug look on her face right then nearly sent me over the edge. I'm pretty sure that's when I chipped my hoof stomping on a rock just to keep myself clammed up while Ben took over. I'm proud that he at least gave her an idea where she could shove her choice.

"I have trouble believing your proclaimed words of fate. That platoon you mentioned was probably certain of their victory as well, but I remember personally ordering that their corpses be fed to the tigerfish in the river after we put a stop to them and their supposed "Fate" that they had planned."

Then guess what happened. Seriously, humor me and just take a guess. More fucking drivel from Yersinia, this time with a poetic verse to it. Great, I thought, now she's artistic in her not-shutting-the-nightmare-up. "Beneath a smoggy sky does the bitter wind blow over a blazing valley. The flags of the Ariad flap high above the heads of our brethren, and all eyes watch as fire consumes the home that bears the mark of the Sun's Captor. Screams ride on the chilled winter's breath, and are drowned out by the cries and howls of beasts unlike any ever seen before. The Ariad stand alone." After her dark poetry was finished, she returned to her position between her two lieutenants and gave us a powerful stare. "Thus is what the Wisemare has seen. The unseen of our world ripples like disturbed water, and that stirring is the calling for the Ariad to finally rise. Her vision is what the ripple entails. What it entails is that the Ariad will stand alone above the ashes of those who carry the banner of the Sun's Captor."

"Bullshit!" All of us jumped at the piercing interjection that rose between us. I was surprised when I realized it was actually Maple who said it. She came pushing out of the ranks to stand between us and speak what was on her mind. "I've heard enough of your pointless yapping. Fate? Visions? Ripples? All you've talked about is crap that you can't prove."

"Maple, get back over here and stand down!" I tried to call her back over to us because she was overextending herself and getting in way too deep.

"No! I'm not going to listen to this nonsense anymore! What, they think they're justified just because some old creaky nag said she had a good dream? They're going to claim that all they've done is their “right” because of that?"

I agreed with her, but she was sabotaging Ben's attempts at diplomacy and endangering us all. "Maple, shut up and get back here, now! That's an order!"

"They can't justify it! Burning down our homes, stealing our stuff, hurting our friends; there's no way they can justify what they've done. Even if they had a scroll signed from Celestia herself, they could just shove it right up their asses because nothing can justify what they've done, or even their existence."

Yersinia scowled as she watched Maple's verbal tantrum going on in the gap between us, and all she did was nod to the two ponies closest to her as they looked to her in question. That is when they stepped forward.

"All I see is a band of monsters! No-good, fat-headed, freaky-eyed, tentacle-faced bastards! A bunch of superstitious morons that need nothing more than a good hoof to the head. You want some land so bad? How about you just go and eat some dirt like the primitives you are! The world'll be a better place,” Her sentence was never finished, as it was interrupted by the heavy thud of metal meeting bone.

One of the lieutenants had struck her down with a flanged mace right in front of us.

Ben went to jump for her when she went crashing to the ground after the hit. Absinthe grabbed him and pulled him back, refusing to let him walk right into the fray while he shouted Maple's name. We were hoping to see her stand back up, but she never did.

The two ponies that had stepped forward to put her down didn't retreat after she was laying on the ground, even though her eyes were closed and her mouth open because they had knocked her clean out with the force of the mace. Instead, one of them lifted his hoof and stomped on her a few times until he was sure she was not stirring, before continuing to stand on her as the other drew his axe from his holster and raised it above his head.

"Stop!" Ben shouted. "You've done enough! Don't hurt her!"

Yersinia shook her head at us. "Disrespect is not tolerated. Perhaps you should keep a better command of those you claim to lead if you do not wish this to happen. This only serves to help you keep the other ones who serve you in line as we'll make an example for them." The axe blade pulled back higher. "Do it."

I couldn't do it. I couldn't watch it anymore. I'll only sacrifice so much for the stupid idealism of a peaceful resolution, and watching one of my own get abused and executed right in front of me is not something I'll endure for it. The gloves were off now, and before they even knew what had happened I was in the middle of it all. The pony standing on Maple soon hit the ground with a groan as he tried to keep his parts inside his chest with his hooves. I had slashed as deep and wide as I could into him while I jumped by, lifting my blades up to block the axe bit before it fell on the pegasus still unconscious on the ground.

I couldn't even hear what everypony was shouting anymore. Their negotiation had turned into a fight. The parley must have ended when I did what I had to and threw the lieutenant away from Maple. I know Ben hadn't given me the okay, but there was no other choice. I wasn't going to just stand by and let it happen. That wasn't going to happen on my watch. I guess I forced a lot of my comrades to pay a pretty high price when I did it though.

They swarmed us like fucking bees. They were everywhere. We couldn't even see where each other was, our group was divided by them so entirely that it felt like just the three of us standing in the front might be alone now. Quite a few still held back, like Tye Dye, who did her best to give covering fire with her crossbow to some of the militia getting mobbed. They brought more crossbows than us though, and they used them to pretty good effect. That's what got me.

It hit like a freaking wagon. Three of the son of a bitches got me, one in the shoulder and two in the side. Sent me right to the ground. I couldn't get my damn leg to move for me once my shoulder got hit. The lieutenant that I was duking it out with kicked me aside like a piece of trash when he saw that I couldn't get back up. He had a duty, and he was going to see it through. As much as I fought, I just couldn't get my leg to cooperate, and I looked up to see him raise the axe above Maple once again as she still lay helpless beneath him. I couldn’t find my dagger then, I couldn't block it, and I couldn't stop it. All I could do was watch after all.

What I saw was his fucking head explode right off of his neck.

No shit. It sounded like a cannon on a ship going off or a firework detonating right next to your head. Right when it sounded, his head burst open into a thousand pieces and shot off towards the troops standing behind him and Yersinia, who was standing proudly. Red spray and pulpy grey mess just littered them all as the body fell to the ground. We finally got to see a lot of the ponies standing behind him collapsing in pain, including Yersinia, who was huddled over as she grasped for her face.

Those white tapestries of hers weren't white anymore, that's for sure. When she finally uncovered her face, a trail of blood was leaking down a hole left in her nose, causing her to close the eye shut on the side it was on. She asked the same question I was thinking then too. "What manner of sorcery is this?" I would have just asked what the nightmare he did, but close enough.

Ben was sitting on his ass when she asked him that. He needed a moment to pick himself up off of the ground and pick that blunderbuss of his up again while he was at it. I didn't get to see what put him there, but I have a good idea I know what it was.

Admittedly, the coordinator can be a fairly scary guy when you piss him off. I'm glad he was on our side during this spat once I got to hear him start finally talking back to Yersinia. "My answer to that choice, that's what that is."

"So you want a war for the land here?" Yersinia asked, still unable to open the eye above the piercing wound in her nose.

"Just how confident are you in prophecies, Yersinia?" He asked her. He was lining up the sights on that weapon of his with her forehead when he said it. "Your little poetry reading earlier only said the Ariad would stand on this land. Did it say anything about you? Did it mention that their Shamaness would be standing with them?"

It was good to see her finally keep her mouth closed for once.

"Let me promise you one thing: If you all plan to take this land today, you will never personally get to see it happen. Are you ready to make that sacrifice? Are your lemmings back there going to be able to press on without you? If you want to start a fight, I'll make sure that your head is nothing more than a red mist caught in the fur of your troops when they stand alone atop our ashes without you." When everyone still held silent, he adjusted the blunderbuss against his shoulder and pulled back the hammer to ask her, "So just how much are you willing to sacrifice to take this Mire from us?"

She never did answer his question, at least not verbally. Her answer was to turn around and order her troops to march away. When everypony saw what he did to that lieutenant, the fight ended pretty quickly. Nopony wanted to be the one he was looking at over the sights of that boomstick he kept hoisted to his shoulder. The Deicidians skittered back into their own ranks to avoid being its next target, and those of the militia that could stand pulled themselves back to our side for protection behind him.

"Before the year's first bloom, we will take the mire." That's the last thing she said to us. I bet that means she's going to send her troops next time without her. At least Ben put some rightful fear into her. That extra hole in her nose might remind her that she's not invincible... and it bought us at least one more season.

Since that day, I've been laid up here in the infirmary next to all the other ponies that got injured that day. The militia certainly weren't the only ones that had injuries. The fires took a huge toll on quite a few, as well as some ponies having gotten hurt during the initial volleys. I wish I could say exactly how many injuries have proved to be fatal, but there are still quite a few who are currently riding the line. Springfield and Willow are a couple who are in that last group.

It had to do with the fires. The three homes that went ablaze with somepony still in them were the homes of Bunsen, Onyx Culet, and Willow. Springfield refused to join the militia and stayed to help with the fires. Instead of grabbing a bucket of water, he tied a damp rag around his face and jumped right into the blaze. I hear that the story is he kicked the wall of Willow's house open to get inside since the door was blocked by flames. He jumped right into the fire and searched through the blistering heat to find his friend. A lot of ponies were left holding their breath in suspense as it took him several minutes to finally fight his way back out, and when he did, he had Willow with him, and they both collapsed to the ground outside the building. They were both singed pretty badly, but still breathing. That was only perhaps a minute before the supports of the building finally gave out from the heat and came collapsing down in to a pile of rubble. Willow's lucky to have somepony looking out for him like that. Really lucky.

Bunsen and Onyx Culet weren't so lucky.

Tye Dye is stuck in the infirmary with me. One of the bolts got lodged in her neck, and she's had some severe bleeding because of it. Ben's done what he could to stop the bleeding, so I think overall she's going to make it, but the gal isn't good for conversation right now. The loss of Bunsen has been extremely hard on her, since I heard they shared something special between them. When she's not asleep from the sheer loss of so much blood, I hear her crying over it. I can't blame her, but it means that I don’t have much to talk to her about right now.

Not having Bunsen has been really hard on Ben too. With her gone, and Springfield still unconscious, Ben's the only pony around that knows a damn thing about medicine. I asked him if he ever went to school for medicine or if he had any training, but once again, that's a question I really shouldn't have asked. He does what he can though. He's one smart kid to have been able to figure out how to treat the ones he has so far. He's gotten some kind of tubing to put in Springfield and Willow's throats, says it's to make sure their airways stay open in case of swelling from the smoke inhalation. He's got tons of alcohol sitting around that he asked Absinthe to bring, and like a witchdoctor of some sort, he keeps pouring it over our open wounds every day and rebandaging them, like it’s some kind of ceremony. Claims it’s to keep infection out. I've watched him stitch up a few ponies with blade wounds and such, as well as put some splints on Heartstrike to help let one of his legs heal after it took a pretty bad whack from a club. He currently won't let me walk because of the pain in my front leg when I try to stand on it, says that he thinks some muscles or something may have been torn in it. The whole place is just a mess because of all of this truthfully.

Then when night comes, and all of the ponies around here finally go to sleep and stop bitching, or moaning or crying, and it starts to get dark, I still see him over there. He carries around his bottles of alcohol and pails of fresh water, wandering through the infirmary as he looks over everypony and puts his hands on Willow and Springfield's chests to see if they're still breathing. Eventually, he finally collapses into his chair next to Maple's bedside, and just sits for a few hours with his head in his hands. She still hasn't woken up. That hit must have been a lot harder than we thought it was, and every time he wakes up to see her still unconscious over there, it visibly kills him a little bit inside.

I get this tugging feeling that I should say something to him. Sometimes I just get this stupid whim to call his name and tell him to come over here just so I can pull his head to me and give him a lick to let him know it's all going to be okay. Maybe tell him that he did all he could, and that even though it seems like it wasn't enough, nopony can truly fault him for what he did. I can't bring myself to do it though, I'd just feel like I was being dumb if I did. He doesn't want comfort from somepony like me. I'm sure of it. I just know that I would have liked to have somepony hold me for a little while when I was where he is.

I know you're going to end up reading this sooner or later, Ben, and I've got just a couple of things I need you to know. First, you did good kid. I'm proud of you. You did all you could to keep all of us safe, but stood your ground when the time called for it. I know it's really hard to see right now with all the blood and tears going on here in the infirmary. It must feel like you've let a lot of ponies down here, but you've done a lot more than I could have. The only reason most of these ponies are still alive to bitch and moan about their wounds is because of your decisions, and because you thought of them above all else.

And lastly, I trust your decision no matter what you choose. You've never screwed me over before Ben, and I'll be glad to carry out whatever orders you have planned for us from here. If it includes marching right to my death in front of an army of Deicidian bastards to give them one final message that Celestia and the members of the Sun of Chance will never let them walk on us, or if you tell me to pack my things and march back to Canterlot with empty hooves to keep us all safe, I'll follow.

I trust you Ben. You've earned that.